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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028960">assistant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite'>writeiolite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Come Eating, Cum Eating, Cum Play, Deceit, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, Dumbification, F/M, Face-Fucking, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spit Kink, Spit Play, blowjob, coach kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:34:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ukai gets an assistant coach to help him with the workload, but you seem keen on taking a different kind of his load. it doesn’t help that you seem to know something about him, so naturally he wants to figure that out, even if it means diving deep into you....r mind! totally not your pants.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ukai Keishin/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comms</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>assistant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>crossposted on my tumblr, writeiolite</p><p>[ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Hey, Newbie.”</p><p class="p1">A couple of heads turn, none of which are yours.</p><p class="p1">“No, not you guys. <em>Her</em>.” Ukai points at you with his pen in hand, but you’re too damn focused on helping Hinata learn how to set that you don’t notice. Why the second-year even needs to know goes over the coach’s head, but you were insistent. “Bring her over here for me.”</p><p class="p1">The two first years nod and Ukai watches them approach you with a small scowl. As much as he likes having an assistant coach around to help him out, he can’t figure out what it is about you (besides the obvious) that he <em>doesn’t</em> like. There’s something <em>off</em>. You — unlike the new first years — don’t treat him with the same amount of caution. It’s like there’s an extra dose of Chemical X coursing through your veins and making you act out, all too familiar with him and all too knowing of things that you shouldn’t know about.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>What exactly is she hiding?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Need something, Coach?” You’re light on your feet when you approach him, a pep in your step that makes him scowl even more. “You okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Have some respect, will you? I’m older than you,” he sighs, lips twitching. He needs a cig. “Why are you wasting your time over there? You know we need some fliers out about the upcoming game.”</p><p class="p1">Your eyebrows lift. “I thought I mentioned earlier Yachi is handling that.” Without any invitation, you lean into his personal space, pretty fingers flipping a page on his clipboard, then another, and another before you stroke up the sheet slowly. “See,” you pause to tap the ink, “I even wrote it down right here for you. You’re not getting that old, are you?”</p><p class="p1">“No.” He sits up straight and raises his chin. “You just wrote it somewhere less obvious than normal.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” you snicker, “sorry, I’ll make sure to leave it in the normal place next time. Don’t wanna make your hard job any <em>harder</em>.”</p><p class="p1">A shudder wracks his shoulders and back — did you have to remain so close to him while you said it? Why <em>did</em> you say it like that? It’s not the first time but he still can’t get used to it.</p><p class="p1">You stand up straight as if nothing happened, hands weaved together behind your back. “Am I good to go now? You know Hinata needs to learn the difficulties of setting so he can be a little more accommodating to Kageyama.”</p><p class="p1">“I think you need to learn to be a little bit more accommodating to your superiors,” he grumbles.</p><p class="p1">“What?” You lean in again and hell, he nearly falls off the bench when he leans back.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing. Just go do whatever it is you need to do, kid.”</p><p class="p1">With your lips pursed, you shrug your shoulders and scamper off, hopefully not realizing the cold sweat that’s building on his temple. For whatever reason, your perfume smells familiar in the best way, and the last thing he needs is for more than one thing to get <em>hard</em>.</p><p class="p1">Luckily for him, you don’t pester him any further that day. He ignored the seconds you stared too long and the way you lingered after practice to catch a spare moment with him. He’s glad Yachi ripped you away from the gym and and <em>him</em> before you could enact whatever funny ideas you had.</p><p class="p1">In short, Keishin does not trust his assistant coach.</p><p class="p1">Every single practice is another test of his patience. He still remembers when you first started working at Karasuno, wet behind the ears (though, he believes you still are) and using this job to sustain you through college. In all honesty, he doubted you — or anyone, for that matter — could handle a job and school, but you soon proved your determination within the first few weeks of working with him. Showing up on time, even early, and then accompanying the team to dinner and always providing useful strategies. You’d suggest game plans he didn’t think of like you know the ins and outs of the sport and the players.</p><p class="p1">To be fair, he <em>vaguely</em> remembers you saying you’re the second and third years’ senpai, but he doesn’t listen to anything that comes out of your mouth when it’s not practice time. All because after the first month at his side, things went south.</p><p class="p1">You must’ve bumped your head. It hadn’t been the first time Ukai walked you home from practice, but it surely was the last. What was once such a harmless notion quickly became something he feared, and that goes for more than walking you home. Call him an idiot but he thought it would be fine to come in for tea. A college girl living by herself in an apartment far from her campus, surely you must get lonely. He didn’t see the harm in it the first time it happened, but that’s only because the foul came after.</p><p class="p1">One invite for tea turned into two, and the two abruptly turned into Disaster. Maybe he bumped <em>his</em> head because he didn’t understand how the conversation suddenly surrounded his sex life.</p><p class="p1">“Do you like to be called daddy?” you spoke with a comfortable smirk, “Or since you’re a coach now, do you prefer to be called that?”</p><p class="p1">Iced tea sputtered between his lips. “Uh, doesn’t matter…” He blinked a few times and thought about it — he liked the dominance with the title, but he didn’t exactly like when his exes called him daddy. But the more the thought about it, he didn’t know <em>why</em> he even answered.</p><p class="p1">You hummed knowingly with a nod. “I know you pretty well. I’d say you’d like to be called coach because being called daddy by your exes didn’t always get you going, right?”</p><p class="p1">“You only know me within <em>work</em>,” he bit out, needing to reel the conversation back to holy grounds. It felt bad that you were right-</p><p class="p1">“Aw, don’t be like that, <em>coach</em>.”</p><p class="p1">-but it felt even worse that it sounded right coming out of your mouth.</p><p class="p1">“Can’t punish me for being observant,” you chimed. “Though, you’re the type, right?”</p><p class="p1">He stiffly shook his head, jaw rigid even when he said your name as a warning. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so let’s stop here.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, I do!” You smiled at him so… <em>purely </em>with eyes so prying. The juxtaposition made him nauseous. “But we can pick this up another day.”</p><p class="p1">There would not be another day — not if he could help it.</p><p class="p1">Any hopes he had about this being a one-time thing were diminished when he got to work and you <em>still</em> were playing some sort of mind (and body) game with him. Why does your perfume smell so nice? Why are you dressed up so nicely? Why do you act so nicely and so naughty — and not in the good way?</p><p class="p1">He didn’t think he’d be so unlucky to find out.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, Coach-”</p><p class="p1">A weird chill settles into his bones.</p><p class="p1">“-did you still want me to run Friday practice?”</p><p class="p1">Right. He forgot he told the managers that. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll still be around in the faculty office if you need me. Just gotta do some errands. And for the rest of you,” he makes burning eye contact with the team, hoping they all get the message, “don’t start thinking you can slack off. I should be back periodically.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, sir!”</p><p class="p1">Good. He trusts them enough to listen, unlike <em>some</em> people. And as if you can fucking <em>hear his thoughts</em>, you flash him a wink, one that he shoots down with a glare before leaving. Technically, you should be following him, but he didn’t have the guts to tell you you’re just as responsible for these small errands and meetings as much as he is. He doesn’t mind shouldering the work if it means getting to escape from your double-edged presence.</p><p class="p1">You like him — that much is obvious. He’s never had the opportunity to date a coworker (who the hell would when you work in a store owned by your family?) but he’d say he’s not picky. It didn’t seem like a bad idea unless you break up… but he’s not about to risk any of that with you. Someone else (someone normal)? Maybe.</p><p class="p1">Gone are the good ole days where he showed you the ropes of coaching, now replaced with terror behind those gym doors. He sighs while filing away some papers Takeda left for him, the first stack of many to sort. Hell, shouldn’t this be <em>his</em> job?</p><p class="p1">“The nerve of these people,” he grumbles, shutting a filing cabinet and going about the next task. There are meetings to coordinate, camps to coordinate, and even <em>bathroom breaks</em> to coordinate — Hinata can’t ride in a bus for more than an hour. Ugh. His work is cut out for him for the next two hours but his head is already pounding.</p><p class="p1">It doesn’t go by as fast as he’d like even when he’s sauntering from the coach’s desk to the faculty doors and chatting away in the coaches’ conference call. While you may not be the best company, he’s finding himself itching to get back to practice. Not a moment more and he’s walking back to the gym. Just for a peek.</p><p class="p1">He can hear Tanaka yelling before he even pokes his head in, prompting him to mute his mic on the call. Just cracking the door open to make sure nothing is on fire and he already feels better. It’s just another practice as usu-</p><p class="p1">“Coach?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Dammit</em>. He pretends he doesn’t hear — stupid choice, frankly — and moves his gaze aside. If he thought Yachi giving him away was bad, he obviously didn’t account for what would happen when he looks right at you. You’re staring back at him curiously and it looks like you might get up right when he hears his name being mentioned in the phone call.</p><p class="p1">He darts back down the walkway to the faculty office, unmuting himself and finishing his tasks for the day. By the time you go to follow him, he’s already gone and decided on coming back another time.</p><p class="p1">If only it were that easy every day.</p><p class="p1">The next practice is the same as the others — loud voices, cigarette breaks when you get too close, practicing receives, and on and on… The practice after that is the same, though, you started offering him his favorite brand of cigarettes — one that he hasn’t bought in a while but never forgets nonetheless.</p><p class="p1">He narrows his eyes at you.</p><p class="p1">“What?”</p><p class="p1">“I <em>know</em> you don’t smoke.”</p><p class="p1">You nod and wiggle the box in front of him to encourage him to take one. “Your break is in a few minutes, right?”</p><p class="p1">Of <em>course</em>, you took note of when he started going on breaks. What kind of person would you be if you didn’t? One that isn’t weirdly crushing with him? If only.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll pass,” he grunts, facing forward again to watch the scrimmage match. Takeda glances at the two of you oddly but doesn’t say anything. Damn him, it’d be nice if he would play savior for a moment and give you something to do.</p><p class="p1">“C’mon, these are the ones you like, right?” You set the box in his lap, your hand lingering there for <em>far</em> too long. Sure, you’re not touching him, but you’re touching the box and it’s touching him. That’s just way too fucking close.</p><p class="p1">“No.”</p><p class="p1">“Really?”</p><p class="p1">He tenses his jaw, biting back whatever end-of-the-line insults he may have. “Really.”</p><p class="p1">“Aw…” He can see you slump beside him and he’s caught between victory and guilt. Yes, <em>guilt</em>, because that time you sounded genuinely upset, and it goes down like bitter, faux-cherry-flavored medicine.</p><p class="p1">Taking a patient breath (saints should laud him), he pushes your hand off the box, slides a stick out, and slaps the little square back into your palm. He keeps his eyes locked on the net, convinced that if he doesn’t look at you then he won’t feel <em>that</em> bad.</p><p class="p1">“I knew I didn’t forget,” you mutter under your breath. It’s probably a sentence he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he did. He heard the sly smile with it too.</p><p class="p1">“Huh?” He doesn’t just look at you now, he glowers.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Maybe fear tactics will work on you. </em>
</p><p class="p1">“Hm? Oh!” You reach into your bag and pull out a lighter before leaning into him like always. “Want me to get it for-”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Nope, guess not.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“I’m taking a break,” he grumbles to Takeda, zipping across the wooden floor before things could get worse.</p><p class="p1">He should definitely say something to you. Something more direct than what he told you over tea, but what exactly would work with a lovesick girl? “You’re pretty but I’m not into you?” “I think you have a great personality but I’m not interested?”</p><p class="p1">When he sighs out the smoke, he’s disappointed that his troubles don’t go with it. Who the hell is he kidding? You’re more than pretty, your personality is more than great, the only thing “wrong” is that you’re coming off too strong before he can have a chance to get to know you how he wants. No, that sounds weird. He just wants to know what you’re hiding.</p><p class="p1">The familiar cigarette between his fingers brings back memories of an ex he had a few years ago — she always bought these for him and after they broke up he didn’t have the heart to switch to another brand for another few months. Still, he comes back to them, the comfort they bring always soothing him down when he’s stressed. It’s odd that you would mention “not forgetting” about them.</p><p class="p1">An inhale and then another sigh.</p><p class="p1">He’ll just confront you. Ask you what you know and why you’re so terribly familiar with him. And if you don’t tell him then would it be so bad to dangle a first date over your head? Probably. But it wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done to a girl… He’d explore puppy love with you if he knew whatever secret it was you were hiding.</p><p class="p1">So it’s decided. He grinds the bud under his toe with resolve and all but marches back into the gym, planting himself beside you on the bench. While his plan is somewhat formed, he didn’t exactly know <em>when</em> he’d ask you about it. Maybe after pra- no, he doesn’t need another tea mishap.</p><p class="p1">“That’s it for today,” you call while standing up. Keishin’s eyebrows scrunch together as he looks between you and his watch. He didn’t think he took that long on his break. “Our practice match with Seijoh is next week so for the rest of this week we’ll just keep drilling this stuff in.” You look down your shoulder at him, waiting for any elaboration he can add.</p><p class="p1">“Right. So tomorrow…”</p><p class="p1">The rest isn’t important. Well, it <em>is</em>, but he could do that in his sleep. It’s all part of the routine he built up anyway, but asking you to share your secrets is taking a bit more precedence in his mind at the moment.</p><p class="p1">But he’s a grown man. He can get through another practice or two without pestering you (take notes, damn kid) and settle for the weekend. Each day passes and he nearly forgets to ask you on Friday, especially when he has yet another day filled with errands.</p><p class="p1">“Hey.” You look up from the clipboard in your lap. “I have stuff to do in the faculty office for us both to work on.”</p><p class="p1">In all honesty, he was expecting you to jump at the idea. He knows how you operate — you’d probably jump his bones if it weren’t for Takeda being around every practice. But much to his dismay (damn, is he really upset by it?) you don’t bite.</p><p class="p1">“The managers aren’t here today, Coach,” you pout. “One of us has to stay and help Takeda on Fridays.”</p><p class="p1">Blinking, he looks around the room to see that you’re right. He didn’t realize they were gone, so tunneled in on getting a chance to spill his questions to you that he didn’t bother seeing who was even present. Just his luck. “Right, don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll handle it.”</p><p class="p1">“Oo, so manly,” you coo, licking your lips while <em>still</em> looking up at him from your seat. He barely sees Takeda pale in the corner of his eye, but he’s almost lost in the sight of you so low in front of him, at a very, very ironic height considering your consistently inappropriate attitude.</p><p class="p1">He almost has the mind to grab your head and-</p><p class="p1">“Shut up, will you?” He stalks off grumbling about your poor manners loud enough for you to hear. Just as he’s halfway out of the door — nearly getting plowed over by Kageyama and Hinata racing — he announces his departure to the team. “I’ll be back every now and then like usual.”</p><p class="p1">The new coaching system really is a pain in his neck. Weekly meetings and errands every Friday? It just seems like more busy work now that he’s actually getting paid to be a coach instead of volunteering after being haggled by his friend.</p><p class="p1">Whatever. The sooner he gets this all over with, the sooner he can get back to you and figure you the hell out. Flirting with him in public isn’t new, but it’d be great if you would tone it down some. He’ll have to bring that up to you later.</p><p class="p1">Except later never comes. The sun is barely on its last leg and he’s just the same by the time he finishes all that he needs to do. Again, why the <em>hell</em> isn’t this Takeda’s job?! He’s out of breath by the time he lugs himself back into the gym, finally here to stay rather than just peering in. Much to his surprise, it’s empty except for the aforementioned young man.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Coach Ukai!” He jogs over, stepping around him and locking the door. “Practice ended early.”</p><p class="p1">“And whose call was that?” His eyebrow twitches in irritation.</p><p class="p1">Takeda gives him a pointed look that makes him gulp. That’s an answer in itself. The two of them saunter away from the school with the sunset basking over them. Besides the wind blowing, Keishin swears he hears the sound of the third years yelling off in the distance.</p><p class="p1">“By the way… What’s going on with you two?”</p><p class="p1">If only he had a cigarette to keep his mouth too busy to answer. “What are you talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“I-I don’t mean to intrude but I just didn’t realize you guys were dating.”</p><p class="p1">Nope, good thing he doesn’t have a cigarette — he would’ve choked. “We’re not dating…”</p><p class="p1">Takeda’s steps falter, staring at the younger man hard for him to continue his sentence. “…Yet?”</p><p class="p1">“Tch,” he dramatically shrugs his shoulders, the movement so large he does it with his arms too. “I don’t know. I need to talk to her about how she’s acting around me.”</p><p class="p1">“She definitely seems… fond of you.”</p><p class="p1">Fond is only the nice way to put it — they’ve both seen and heard your shameless acts. If only Takeda knew what you were actually capable of and how much it actually gets to the coach.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, I know, but I’m sure it’s just a little crush. I was going to talk to her after practice today but she’s already gone.”</p><p class="p1">Takeda begins laughing as his steps pick up again. “She actually left early because I mentioned you might leave straight from the faculty office. She wanted to give you something, apparently.”</p><p class="p1">The lines in Keishin’s forehead appear from his confusion, walking alongside the other man. It’s definitely just a little girl crush. He’ll set you straight soon. “I’ll talk to her.”</p><p class="p1">“Completely unrelated… I can handle practice next Friday, by the way.”</p><p class="p1">He can’t tell if he’s grateful to be set up — would he say wing manned? — or dreading it, but his heart is racing all the same. The countdown to next Friday starts ticking with each of his steps home, each cigarette on Saturday, each customer on Sunday, and each bounce of the ball at practices on Monday through Thursday. The mental stopwatch was driving him mad.</p><p class="p1">The first thing he notices when he walks into the gym is that your skirt is <em>way too fucking short</em>. Be a doll and cut him some slack, won’t you? Somehow you know everything he likes and it’s killing him… But the next thing he notices when he walks into the gym is that Takeda is staring at him staring at you. The older man snickers before turning away, Keishin flushing up in pure embarrassment. He does <em>not</em> have a thing for you like that.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, guys.” Everyone looks over at Takeda, even you who was bending over to get something out of your bag. “Let’s get practice started so Coach Ukai can focus on his Friday errands.”</p><p class="p1">Loudly, everyone agrees, and just as Keishin is just about to approach you, Yachi gets to you first, diving deep into a conversation that he doesn’t care about. Dammit, he just wants to get this over with already — what’s it gonna take for a man to have a talk with his assistant coach around here about her crush on him?</p><p class="p1">He calls your name, hoping he can at least motion for you to follow him to the faculty office. Whatever Yachi is talking about must be monumentally important. It better earn her a Nobel Peace Prize because you actually hold your finger up to him and don’t bother looking. <em>Just a minute</em>. He grinds his teeth and walks off.</p><p class="p1">Whatever. He’ll play your game and get cornered by you and <em>then</em> he’ll ask. Hell, why does he even want to know that bad? It’s not like he actually wants to date you or something. The toe of his sneaker scuffs against the tile when he comes to a stop.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t… Yeah, he doesn’t want to. He’s not into kids who are eager to tease and eager to please like you. Too much energy and not enough…</p><p class="p1">He purses his lips in thought while sorting through the newest stack of papers.</p><p class="p1">Not enough… what? C’mon, Keishin, there’s gotta be something little ole you is lacking.</p><p class="p1">His chest expands from the huge breath he takes in, all his troubles filling him up and taking root even when he exhales. You’re just too interesting for him to <em>not</em> think about — that’s all. And not in a good way, of course. He’s beginning to think about you way too much at this point; he can smell that damn perfume again like it’s ingrained into his memories.</p><p class="p1">“Coach?”</p><p class="p1">Oh, and your voice too, huh?</p><p class="p1">He glares at the paper in front of him, his back still facing the door.</p><p class="p1">“Cooaaaaccchhhh~”</p><p class="p1">“And here I thought I was imagining things,” he grumbles, turning around and dropping the sheet on the desk. It’s only now that he realizes he was reading it upside-down anyway. “What is it?”</p><p class="p1">You cock your head. “I dunno, Takeda told me you needed me here. Did I interrupt your daydreams?” That coy smile is playing on your pink lips — he can fucking see it.</p><p class="p1">“No,” he grunts while crossing his arms, “I’m working — something you should be doing too.”</p><p class="p1">Now the smile breaks out across your face. “I’m a hard worker, Coach. Want me to prove it?” You saunter forward, the only distance between the two of you being half a foot and a row of old desks.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” he starts, “you can do these strategy papers while you tell me why you act so suspicious around me.” He needs to busy you with something so that he can have the upper hand here. The small stack of papers needing to be filled in is perfect. You, being you, run your finger down the first sheet while locking eyes with him through your lashes.</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about? You don’t like when I give you special treatment?”</p><p class="p1">Is that what you call it when you have him <em>fleeing</em> Karasuno? “It’s not about me, it’s about you,” he pushes.</p><p class="p1">Your eyes light up. “I’ll tell you if you do me a small favor.”</p><p class="p1">He knew this was a bad idea.</p><p class="p1">“I wanted to prove that I would be better than your ex-girlfriends at everything when it comes to you, so will you tell me if I was even a <em>little</em> bit successful?”</p><p class="p1">Yep, a bad idea indeed. If this was anyone else asking this question then maybe he’d just be put off, but instead, he’s put off by his own arousal. Why the <em>hell</em> are you looking at him like some unaware little girl that needs guidance and validation? What went through your head to make you look up at him with so much vulnerability that he would feel guilty if he told you anything bad? You flipped that switch in him that wants to help his juniors — the part of him that makes him a good coach but a morally terrible senior. He feels bad enough as it is — he really thought he was just having a moment of weakness by being slightly attracted to you — but now he’s left wondering if there’s a double meaning being the look you’re giving him. Knowing you, there probably <span class="s1">hopefully</span> is.</p><p class="p1">The silence between the two of you feels like it’s on fire, but it’s not burning away into nothing any time soon. He had hoped that maybe if he stared at you hard enough then you’d laugh it all off, but instead your lip fucking <em>quivers</em> and you drop your gaze. God, what’s he done now?</p><p class="p1">The breath he was holding huffs out bitterly. He’s in trouble. “How am I supposed to say no to that?” The words are muttered out half-heartedly with his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Still, your face doesn’t light up like before.</p><p class="p1">“C’mon, don’t look like that. I don’t know why you like me, but if you’re <em>that</em> concerned over being better than my exes then you should’ve just gotten to know me like normal. Y’know, asking me on a date and stuff. You were bold enough to ask <em>much</em> worse things than that.”</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t see your lips twitch in amusement, only your eyebrows furrowing more as if you’re still troubled by your own shortcomings. “So I was wrong, huh?”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head almost instantly. The last thing he needs is for you to break out the waterworks or something. Now is probably the best time for him to be honest with you and himself. “Only a little. But I’ll level with you: I think there’s a chance for us if we go about it the right way. No weird tactics or secrets or anything like that.”</p><p class="p1">Another sigh leaves him and finally, he can feel a little bit of the weight on his shoulders ease up. It’s like he can let his guard down just a little. “I didn’t realize you just wanted to prove yourself to me this whole time, sheesh. You shoulda just said that and I’d’ve dropped some hints or something to make it bearable for us both.”</p><p class="p1">Finally, you perk up for him again, that pretty look in your eyes like he handed you a million dollars or something better. “Does that mean I had a chance this whole time?”</p><p class="p1">“A chance?” He laughs. “Kid, you cornered me in your living room asking me about my coach kink. I don’t think that has anything to do with chances.”</p><p class="p1">You deflate again.</p><p class="p1">“W-wait, wait.” He waves his hands in front of him, really hoping he can take that back. Not just because he doesn’t want to see you upset — he’s <em>never</em> seen you upset — but because he doesn’t want you to know that yes, he does have a coach kink now thanks to you. “I didn’t… mean it like that…? Ugh, just-” he snaps his fingers once and points at the desk “-come here.”</p><p class="p1">With confusion written across your forehead you walk around and sit where he pointed, your motions natural, he notes.</p><p class="p1">“Good, just like that. See? You’re already doing better than any girl I’ve been with in the past.” He watches you smile and his guilt almost goes away. Some part of him knows he should feel bad for taking advantage of your insecurities like this, but another part of him knows you wanted him to praise you even if it’s fucked up. He’s not the best person out there, but he’s the person you want, right? And if you really know him as well as you pretend then you’d already know that he’s not the type to shy away from underhanded tactics. You aren’t either, he knows that much.</p><p class="p1">His hands steady themselves on your shoulders, warm eyes boring into yours before the heat of his palms journeys down past your waist thighs right to your knees, spreading your legs for him to stand between them.</p><p class="p1">“Is this okay?” he asks, trying to salvage some semblance of normalcy. This isn’t even his or Takeda’s desk, but he guesses it’s as good as any. “Honestly, you’re really good looking, so you don’t have to worry about any of that stuff.” He begins to familiarize himself with your legs. “And even though you were a bit too forward it still worked to some extent. This is a one-time thing, though.”</p><p class="p1">“Just for today?” It seems you’ve finally found your voice and it holds a bit more of that confidence he’s familiar with. Of course, you’d be greedy and expect more than just today.</p><p class="p1">“You’re lucky I’m doing anything at all,” he points out with narrowed eyes, hands squeezing your bare thighs for good measure. Your knees close around him slightly. “I thought you had something to prove here.”</p><p class="p1">You tilt your chin up. “I do, but I can’t do much when you’ve got me on the desk like this.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah?” He breathes a laugh and catches that defiant little chin in his grip while leaning in. “Would you rather be on your knees?”</p><p class="p1">He’s expecting a no. He’s always suspected you had a bratty side, or maybe that’s just his dick talking, but you definitely like to give him a hard time. This is certainly fun — coaxing you into giving him what he wants — and it’s even more fun when you pleasantly betray his expectations.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, please.” There’s that cursed look again: gleaming irises through thick lashes atop cute little cherry cheeks he wants to eat right up — the complete package. He’s starting to wonder just how indecent he really is when he gives you the space you need to settle between his legs on the ground.</p><p class="p1"><em>Very</em>, is the answer. Decency is the last thing in the room when his hand pets over your head gently. Your own are smoothing over his thighs, up and up so you can pull down his track pants and reveal the aching tent hiding behind them. And if decency comes last then degeneracy comes first, because something compels him to yank you forward by your hair and rub your cheek and nose against his cock, a hiss of pleasure slipping past his clenched teeth. Pleasure and <em>relief</em>. He didn’t realize that the only thing better than a million dollars would be feeling his assistant coach breathe deeply over his hard-on, but he sure was needing it.</p><p class="p1">And then he realizes that you’re breathing him in like your life depends on it, hands balled up around the material above his knees. You really are a naughty little girl — you wanted this just as bad and that only rings one happy alarm for him.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t have to worry about going too far or holding back. “You’re asking for it; breathing all over me like that,” he laughs out softly, taking <em>gooood</em> care to guide your face up and down the heat in his crotch. You hum in approval, eyes closed in bliss and lips parting to take another breath in. “<em>Fuck</em>, be good and suck me off. You look like you want to, is that right?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Yes, Coach</em>,” you practically sing, and you paw at his thighs while licking your lips just for him, a sight he’s seen so many times and now he can finally see it underneath him for real.</p><p class="p1">He lets go of your hair so you can straighten up enough to get busy, your hands pulling his briefs off like it’s another part of your job. Hard worker indeed, with your legs folded under you and pretty fingers running up the length of each vein like he’s seen you do with countless papers beforehand. He’s only half hard when you start, but by the time you look up at him and glide the leaking tip across your lips he’s <em>aching</em>. Seeing you with lipgloss after this won’t ever be the same.</p><p class="p1">You take just the head into your mouth, keeping your eyes on him for reassurance while you suckle softly. His big hand on your head is a tacit sign for you to take more even if he isn’t pushing you forward. You want to — you want to taste more of the liquid pleasure smeared on your lips and want to hear what sounds he would make. His eyebrows are pulled together sternly, but it only encourages you to take him further, tongue flat and laving over the bottom of his shaft and catching on the glans when you pull up. He twitches at the feeling and the cool air of the room, his fingers digging into your scalp just slightly.</p><p class="p1">“Am I doing well, Coach?” You ask with a honeyed voice and caramel glazed eyes. You look like you’d taste sweeter than you sound.</p><p class="p1">“Keep going and then I’ll tell you.” He pushes you onto his length how he wants, not wasting another second. The feeling of your cheeks suctioned around him is too good to pass up — he’s been needing this more than he knew. “Yeah, just like that. C’mon, you’re already taking me so much deeper than anyone else. You can do more, right?”</p><p class="p1">Your eyes water when the tip of his cock barely brushes against your throat, retreating just as fast, but it’s a hint of what he wants. He growls your name out as a low warning when you don’t take him in any deeper on your own. “Do you want me to do it for you? I don’t mind showing you how to pleasure a man.”</p><p class="p1">“Mm-mm!”</p><p class="p1">He buries your nose in his crotch anyway — if it was a no then he doesn’t care right now, and the way your eyes fall shut with those desperate gags for air filling the space between you… You’re an angel that will definitely be his undoing. The sight is too good, prompting him to do it again and again until he’s fucking your seizing throat, feeling the tight suction it provides every time he slips a few inches past your comfort zone. It feels <em>so fucking amazing</em>.</p><p class="p1">“You’re so good at this, princess,” he praises, almost <em>cooing</em> the words over the obscene sounds falling from your lips. His thighs tense when he sees your lashes clumping together with unshed tears. “Fuck, if we keep going then I’ll cum down your throat. You know how long it’s been since I could cum just from a blow job? You’re setting the standard pretty damn high already.”</p><p class="p1">As if your little moans of pleasure weren’t enough of a sign, you start clenching your thighs together, rubbing them while he uses your mouth and throat as a cocksleeve. Of course, you’d get off on this. He knew he got fucking lucky with you. Who cares if you’re hiding some weird secret when you’re this desperate to have any hole stuffed; he’s happy to be the one doing the stuffing.</p><p class="p1">“You want me to cum in your mouth, is that it?” He hisses in appreciation when you suck harder, the sloppy action losing its grip with his relentless motions. You’re a champ for trying when he’s this brutal — his exes usually just let him do what he wants but it was rare he got to fuck their faces and rarer they did anything else besides sit there. Of all people, he didn’t think you’d be the one trying your damned hardest to make him blow his load before the actual sex. Maybe you deserve a treat.</p><p class="p1">He blinks away the sweat in his eye, taking you in for a spare moment: shiny lips wrapped tight around his cock and eyes brimmed with tears but locked on him nonetheless, burning with determination and begging with desperation. You crave him at the same time that you’re daring him to give in. You deserve a treat.</p><p class="p1">His balls slap against your chin just a few more times, letting him relish in your slurpy gagging once more before he pulls out to just the tip. In perfect, almost needy synchronization, you swirl your tongue around him, ending the motion right over the hole now spurting pulse after pulse of white, gooey goodness into your mouth. You coax him on with the devilish muscle, and he nearly has half the mind to fuck your face again for good measure, the fingers of both hands twitching in your hair at the thought. It’d be nice to fuck his cum down your throat. <em>Maybe another time</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t swallow,” he breathes, pulling out and tilting your head back. “Open.” Sure, he just came all in your mouth — that much is obvious — but the sight of it all tends to the embers in his stomach, blowing the flames alive once more. He trails his hands down to cup your cheeks, reassuring thumbs swiping away at any stray tears with so much tenderness in comparison to his previous animalistic actions. And as if to drown them out completely, he spits right into your mouth, thumbs stroking over your heated cheeks all the while.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Good girl.</em>” He steps back and snaps his fingers again, and this time you don’t have to see him pointing to bend over the papers. “Don’t spill any or else you’ll be writing on messy papers,” he mentions casually, running those fingers down your panty-wedged slit. You’re wet alright, pushing back into him like you knew he wanted to tease the little camel toe and darkening spot. Yet another thing he’d have to ask you about, but he settles for pulling your panties down under your skirt. There’s a brief pause to admire the swell of your ass; he <em>really</em> lucked out. “But I know a hard worker like you wouldn’t do that.”</p><p class="p1">His voice is almost patronizing, almost as if he <em>knows you</em> the way you know him. He doesn’t miss the throb between your legs while he’s bent down behind you, but he’s not going to waste another second. Your cunt matches the rest of you — wet, messy, begging for attention, and probably just as deceitful with secrets <em>deep</em> inside.</p><p class="p1"><em>Don’t mind if I do</em>… He flips the back of your skirt up and gives your ass a squeeze, almost out of courtesy. As if there’s any shred of decency left in him when he came and spat in his lovesick assistant coach’s mouth and now has her bent over for him on some poor teacher’s desk. The <em>least</em> he can do is warn cute little you right before he shoves his hard, fat cock into you.</p><p class="p1">Just because he’s nice like that.</p><p class="p1">“Would it be cruel if I made you beg right now? That’s what the other girls did.” It was cruel for him to add on that last line and he knows it. “You can do that for me, right? You’re pretty helpful already, sucking me off like that.”</p><p class="p1">“Mm-mmph.”</p><p class="p1">“Huh?” He leans over you as if you spoke just fine and he merely missed the words. “Speak-” he pushes the first three inches in without warning “-up.”</p><p class="p1">You squeeze your eyes shut, feet stretching to put you on your tiptoes for him.</p><p class="p1">“C’mon, you’re really gonna be a brat and not answer me now?” He draws his hips back. “Tell me you’re gonna be good and let your coach fuck you with his cum in your mouth.”</p><p class="p1">“I hohua ee-”</p><p class="p1">The head of his cock smashes against your cervix with the right amount of pressure to make you see stars and a pleasing <em>splat</em> is heard in the room<em>.</em></p><p class="p1">“Tch, now look at what you did. Don’t play with your food.” His words are tight though a clenched jaw, hips slapping against your ass quicker than he was fucking your face earlier. The following thrusts aren’t as deep as the first, but he doesn’t need to push the two of you so far to feel good. Your cunt <em>is</em> just like the rest of you, it turns out, and he’s addicted all the same. It feels even better when he hears the drippy slurping sounds coming from your mouth, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from drooling cum and spit over the already ruined papers.</p><p class="p1">He grins. “You’re getting paid to be fucked by your coach and you let yourself make a mess. I didn’t even get paid my first year as coach, you know that?” His thrusts get a little bit harsher with his tone as if to let his frustrations out on you. Maybe this is just what he needed — this pussy <em>definitely</em> makes every moment of his job worth it.</p><p class="p1">He can hear your little muffled whines through the watery puddle in your mouth just as well as he can hear the wet clicking from your pussy being slammed by him. If you’re trying to be quiet, you’re not doing a very good job of it. Or maybe he’s fucking you that hard — showing you how he <em>really</em> likes to be pleased and how you can really do a good job for him. Proving your worth isn’t that hard, huh? Not when you’ll so easily bend over for him with little effort on his end. The sack thumping against your clit tightens at the same time that you pulse around him fervently. He deepens his thrusts to get right where it feels best.</p><p class="p1">For the first time that afternoon, he groans loud, earning another virginal squeeze. “You cumming already?”</p><p class="p1">Like a good little girl, you nod. You wouldn’t lie to your coach.</p><p class="p1">He grazes over another spot in you — you seem to have a lot — that makes your back arch and a sharp <em>mmph!</em> leave your sealed lips. The suction around him gets even tighter, your womb sucking on the tip of his cock just like you were earlier. “Oh, I definitely did something there, huh? You’re making me feel so damn good, princess.”</p><p class="p1">Another splat and he doesn’t bother to hold back the grin on his face, getting liberal with the noises he lets out. Each groan is steamy, and he can feel your reaction to them. If he wasn’t holding your hips still then there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be fucking yourself back onto him — you just seem that eager. And luckily he’s no different. Every time he buries himself deep into you he can feel that same little kiss you give the sensitive head of his cock, reminding him of how your tongue played with him moments before. “This body of yours sure does know me well,” he moans, and he doesn’t have to add on that your slutty little cunt is just like your slutty little mouth: desperate for him to fill you up so he can claim you in the most deplorable way.</p><p class="p1">It’s like you know he wants to cum in you again and you’re sucking him in that much more, making it hard for him to pull out. His fingers hurt from how hard they’re holding the bones of your hips, but the wet heat feels <em>so</em> good and your little moans are pushing him far past sanity.</p><p class="p1">“You wanna be better than the others, right?” You whine a soaked yes that has more pre slipping from the slit snuggly pushed against your cervix with each aching thrust. “Then let me cum in you. You’ll do that, right?”</p><p class="p1">He thought he knew you well enough that you’d say yes again, but he underestimated you. Your body <em>begs</em> for it before your mouth can, pussy clamping around him to trap him inside and hips trying to twitch back to meet the piston he’s created. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his little assistant coach — he was the one who trained you after all.</p><p class="p1">It’s sinful, absolutely a bad idea in every sense of the words but it’s a <em>good feeling</em> when he shoots his vile seed into you, grunts and moans of your name falling from his lips as you cream around him. His pelvis doesn’t stop rocking against you, displacing the mess between your legs that didn’t get deposited into your needy womb, only to cake up on the front of his thighs. The sweat on his brow does nothing to cool him in the heat of the room, steaming breaths from each of you filling the air. He barely manages to pull his fingers out of the indents he left before you’re whining again.</p><p class="p1">“You okay?” He leans forward and kisses the top of your head, leaving another for good measure while he eases his way out of you. Another whine and he’s soothing a hand up your back. “What’s wrong?”</p><p class="p1">Then he hears that familiar splat, only this time it’s from between your legs and he can’t help but smirk. “Right, I almost forgot…” He pulls your head back by your hair, taking in your blown out, half-lidded eyes and gaping mouth, chin running with cum, spit, and anything else that would be deemed the complete opposite of holy water. He watches your little pink tongue twitch in it all, teasing him. He definitely wants to fuck his cum down your throat. “Let me see you swallow, princess.”</p><p class="p1">Boy, do you make a show of it. He swears you must have heard him say it before because you roll your tongue through it all just how he likes it before trailing the tip of the little muscle over your upper lip and <em>gulping</em>. He almost loses the grip in your hair — the only thing holding you both together — when you loll your tongue out, showing off your hard work. Fuck you. Damn him, he <em>really</em> wants to fuck you again.</p><p class="p1">He unweaves his fingers from your hair, stroking over the frizzed strands and keeping his weight off of you with the other hand on the desk. It’s too warm but he doesn’t want to part from you on some tacit instinctual level. You look up at him so pretty too, mascara along your eyes bleeding like watercolors into the dewy sweat and the rest of your all too erotic expression. You only pull your tongue back in to smile up at him, angelically, as ironic as that is.</p><p class="p1">“You did good — really good,” he murmurs, one last kiss on your hairline. It shouldn’t feel so natural, but his lips are drawn to you right now. Maybe it’s just the post-sex high. Doing things out of order is okay too… God, his head is spinning. “Best sex I’ve had in… maybe ever.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” you breathe dreamily, resting your head on your arms now. “I can’t wait to tell my sister about this.”</p><p class="p1">“Hm?” His hand squeezes at the junction where your shoulder and neck meet, massaging any knots away and keeping as much soft contact as possible. This is fine, right? He still needs to ask you about the way you’re acting, but he can spare you some affections and a little lip service without crossing any lines (whatever lines are left). “You guys close or something? That’s cute.” He leaves another kiss on your head. He doesn’t know what your limits are, but hopefully, he can soothe you just enough.</p><p class="p1">“No, but I know she’d lose her shit when she finds out I fucked her ex-boyfriend better than she ever could.”</p><p class="p1">Smug. That devilish smug tone and smirk you usually have are back and he isn’t sure if he missed it or not. Now his head is spinning for different reasons — the cigarettes, the perfume, the skirt… They aren’t yours.</p><p class="p1">Fuck you.</p><p class="p1">Fuck <em>him</em> because he doesn’t feel as mad as he should — he’s <em>relieved</em>, all the mysteries falling into place. He didn’t even know she <em>had</em> a little sister (or any siblings for that matter), but… If you guys aren’t close then-</p><p class="p1">“That makes sense,” he sighs, defeated yet glad. He really did underestimate you but now it’s like he can almost breathe again. “Wait.” He stands up straight, eyes narrowed and heart racing. “Then you don’t actually have a crush on me?”</p><p class="p1">You face him and smile. “I didn’t say that, <em>Coach</em>.”</p><p class="p2">And you’d never lie to your coach.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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